Quite a Wordy Wednesday

The Cat
by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

The cat
      licks its paw and
lies down in
     the bookshelf nook
                             She
                can lie in a
                            sphinx position
without moving for so
                               many hours
and then turn her head
                to me and
                         rise and stretch
and turn
              her back to me and
lick her paw again as if
                          no real time had passed
It hasn't
                           and she is the sphinx with
              all the time in the world
                   in the desert of her time
The cat
    knows where flies die
          sees ghosts in motes of air
              and shadows in sunbeams
She hears
               the music of the spheres and
the hum in the wires of houses
               and the hum of the universe
in interstellar spaces
                                       but
                    prefers domestic places
                    and the hum of the heater